Smoke Over the Foot's Print
by MexicAmerichick6
Summary: The world's gone to pieces; everyone finds themselves in madness one way or another; still, they learn to cope with it in the end.
1. Nothing Can Break My Stride

**1\. Pairings Planned? Otayuri and LeoJi. Downplayed Viktuuri - I've planned Foe Yay for them. ;)**  
**2\. Updates? I have two other chapters prewritten and will add this weekend; all others will every week or so.**

* * *

_To this day, it remains unknown what caused the disaster that blanketed Planet Earth in utter depression. The disaster had only lasted for three years; oddly, despite that short time period, over 5.9 billion humans perished. Either from becoming deadly decayed mutants, by the disaster, their fellow humans, or suicide. Those who survived—strived as much as possible to rebuild their lives—by learning from those who were fit enough to live as their tales are here… _

!

Fire burned on the street, reflecting itself in a puddle of water.

"So what, you will just give up?" Otabek chastised, standing above a young blonde he found among all the rubble.

Yuri gave up no answer, just shaking head and not giving Otabek any eye contact.

"You will just become sustenance for these monsters? Huh?" Otabek grilled once more, shaking Yuri's arm.

"I was part of this," the boy finally made eye contact to Otabek. The disaster erupted only seventeen days ago, and a turf war erupted in between a private boarding school and a public high. Neither side won though.

"So was I, I know," Otabek told him. He was taken in by the latter, Yuri stumbled onto the former.

"What are you doing then?" Yuri asked. What could they do? What was the fucking point of living in this world anyway?

"Find a way out of this town; I will need your help." The older teen requested, standing up, holding his hand out for Yuri. The boy calmly took it and ran with him, as a scatter of decayed gripped the fence of the tennis court they were in. Several others wandered around the exits, posing as a deadly obstacle for any intending escapees.

Otabek quietly cursed to himself, as they were standing in the parking lot.

"How are we gonna get through that?" Yuri asked him.

The older teen turned to his side… and saw a long, brown haired girl on her side – dead.

"That's Jessica Sanderson, the cheer captain," Yuri commented; someone slit her neck at the start of the battle. Otabek walked straight to her corpse, pulling out a pocket knife. The former's eyes elongated, wondering, "What are you doing?"

Otabek, with a silent scream, drove the knife into the deceased girl's stomach, quietly asking her to please forgive him and to rest in peace. While, Yuri cringed, thinking that he wasn't doing what he was about to do. Rivers of black water had overflowed, the girl's dead eyes staring right up at the sky as if looking for constellations. Otabek jammed his large hands, into Jessica's body, soon finding her small intestine and her liver; he shoved the intestines onto his shoulders, rubbing the blood on them onto his entire face.

"Oh no," Yuri backed away, utterly disgusted with this guy. Otabek, on the other hand, walked up to him the liver in his hands.

"Quiet; I am liberating you," he admonished, rapidly smashing the liver and rubbing the bloody mush onto Yuri's face, cringing.

Whatever, the dumb bitch Jessica was racist.

!

Getting through that clout of decayed was a small hassle – some tugged on their clothes, but thanks to Yuri's kicks and Otabek's blade, they emerged still alive and well. They stood at the very gate of the private school, right where the highway was. Then, after talking about the various exits around town, they went north – where there were very little neighborhoods by.

They evaded about three or four clouts of them either by getting onto flatbed trucks or snaking through cars. At one point, as they entered a neighborhood with only three houses on the left, Yuri asked Otabek, "You know how to drive a car?"

Otabek folded his arms, standing in the middle of the street. "No," pursing his lips. "What of you?"

"I can only ride a bike," the boy answered. Fuck, to think he'd be driving in the next year if the disaster was nonexistent.

"Motorcycles in my case," The older teen told him, brow up almost amusedly.

The boy shook his head, rolling his eyes. _Thinks he's some man_ as they continued forward after Otabek pointed to a house with a lifted garage door. They could stay there for a while to catch their breath and relax—if it was vacant of any 'occupants'.

The house looked decent enough, with only one floor and a few rooms—most likely belonged to a family of four it seemed. Bookshelves and tables were tipped over, in front of doors, most likely to keep something put away like a safe. Despite Otabek being larger and wider physique-wise, there was no way he would uncover what was behind. Just leave it alone, possibly.

Yuri looked around the cupboards, to see if there was anything edible or usable as a weapon. He would have slipped and fallen on his face but fortunately gripped onto the table that was by the kitchen. Shaking his head once he recovered, he noticed the family portrait was on it and picked it up. There was a dark-toned man, a lighter-toned woman, and two girls; before them was a golden retriever. Yuri had never been a fan of dogs, snorting as he placed it back on the table.

Oddly enough, as Otabek was in the children's room, he despised television, but something like a portable DVD player would be nice. Books, magazines, and even a crossword puzzle could only keep him occupied for so long. Otabek wondered what movie he could indulge himself in, looking through the devices that sat still unharmed; maybe an animated film for all ages or even a biographical movie of a famous musician. He nodded to himself, holding a portable that was still in mint condition before him. Otabek then found a good film about a Californian group of minorities, reciting the story of the late rapper, Eazy-E—_Straight Outta Compton. _

Yuri stood outside of the kitchen, holding onto a bag of nuts he found in the lower cupboard. He licked his lips, attempting to open it as Otabek manifested before him.

"You found something…?" Otabek began – and would've finished that question if he knew his name.

"The name's Yuri…" the boy told him, shuffling the bag in front of him. "yeah, just a bag of… whatever these are."

"Mine is Otabek, and," he looked at the bag, "apparently you have encountered almonds." Healthy for the human body, even now.

Yuri huffed, "What'd you find?"

"Portable DVD player – and the film 'Straight Outta Compton'," the older teen explained to him.

"Oh, you for real?" Yuri bid astonished like a child, taking the movie from him, spinning around and sitting on the couch by them.

"I take it you have seen this movie before?" Otabek inquired like an annoyed schoolteacher.

"Yeah, last year—saw this piece by piece at lunch in school," the boy explained to him. "My grandpa obviously wouldn't let me see it, 'cause of the sexual and drug shit that is in it."

"Funny, your grandpa was a good man by it and you still curse," Otabek sat by him, Yuri bobbing up.

"You wanna watch it right now?" Yuri beamed right up at him as if hanging out with friends on a Friday night.

"You sure? Even at this time?" Otabek had arms still folded.

"Yeah man, rest of the world ain't going nowhere; just make sure the doors are barred and we're good to go." Yuri brought up.

Otabek snorted, before getting up and walking to the back door. "Fine, then, only because the rest of the world is still stagnant,"

"Sweet," Yuri stuck out his tongue.

"Come help me though, Yuri; after all, you are helping me leave this city." His voice radiated from the back.

Yuri's shoulders slumped – pouting. "Fine," he sighed, getting up.

!

Soon enough, dusk arrived, dusting the house's exterior in a modest lavender tinge.

Cackles and crunches erupted from the two, watching the scene where the group was pinned down by the police. Yuri shook his head at it, muttering how can someone destine to protect the public be so ignorant?

Otabek agreed – watching where the manager told the cops they couldn't arrest someone because of who they are.

Just when Yuri could go in for another almond, a lightning strike cracked, startling the boy. Even though tiny fragments could be seen from the blinds, it was enough for them to stare. Otabek walked up to the window and peeked out, seeing several drops of rain pour – rapidly.

"Darn," Otabek muttered to himself.

"It pouring out there?" Yuri inquired, gesturing his hand up.

"Of course," the older teen answered.

"Dude—doesn't matter—we're still under a roof," the boy shook his head, still watching the movie.

"That may be true, Yuri," Otabek spun to him, walking back to the couch. "But it can attract the decayed to our location – which is the last item anyone needs right now."

Yuri huffed, looking right at the older teen before him. "We're stuck in this house pretty much until both storms clear out, right?"

Otabek nodded. _No shit, more like. _

Another cackle boomed, sending another yellow flash into the house, Otabek turning back. Completely unnerved with the punitive weather, Yuri got up from the couch holding the player in his hands. "I'm gonna go into one of the rooms, stupid water."

Otabek would have argued, but maybe it was for the better. Following behind Yuri, he needed a place to rest, after that battle that occurred that noon.

!

After the two finished the movie, they decided about where they should sleep for the night. Otabek would sleep by the door, just as a precaution, while Yuri would sleep on the bed; funny as it was, Yuri could easily euthanize Otabek while his sleep. Try to – better of a phrase. If Yuri tried to muffle the latter with a pillow, he would easily snap his neck with just a fingernail – given his body's stature and muscle.

Otabek watched Yuri slumber on his side, his back facing him. Soft snores emitted from the boy, the sheets ruffling almost quietly underneath him, as he hugged onto his knees. Poor kid. Otabek couldn't blame him; like he, he was away from his own family – and had to sleep by a possibly dangerous stranger for the night. Otabek faced the horizon, sighing to himself; regardless, tomorrow would be a new day and everyone -alive or dead- would lie in peace.

!

Otabek fidgeted on the floor, his eyes snapping up; he sat up straight, rubbing his eyes. That felt good. He looked over to the bed and gasped. It was void of any blonde, pint-sized, swear-some, gangster-loving gnomes.

Otabek bolted up from the floor and out of the room, finding himself in the living room. He turned his head, wondering where in the name of all holiness was Yuri. There was no way Otabek was letting anyone go on their own. Voices boomed through the glass door, insinuating that maybe Yuri was right outside.

The older teen slid the door open, pocket-knife already erected out – ready to pierce into some enemy. Immediately, he saw Yuri on his knees looking up at another teen, just in between his and Otabek's ages. The third boy had a barreled pistol in his hands, aiming right at Yuri's head, red bandana covering his neck and collarbone. One of Yuri's old war-mates, as he stared at Yuri with heat filled eyes.

"Dude, listen, it's over!" Yuri pleaded with him almost pathetically, arms thrashing around. "Everyone's pretty much dead!"

With a concerned look, Otabek quickly ran to Yuri's side. The latter turned around, feeling relief in himself. _Thank Christ._ The unknown boy aimed his gun at Otabek, right in the fucking forehead – though the latter no fear; never had any fear. Glaringly, he pointed the knife at him, "Of course, are you blind? It is done; nothing can resurrect the lost ones now."

The unknown boy's eyes narrowed, a growl radiating from his teeth. "Fine then!" His face grew red, turning his body sideways and firing right at Otabek.

The latter under his breath and rapidly ducked away, grabbing Yuri by the waist and rolling themselves away from him. Otabek dropped onto him his waist, Yuri grunting loudly. The boy peered to the horizon, watching Otabek kick Jeremy's shins with his teeth gritted. Jeremy's eyes were elongated, silently screaming as he lost the grip on his gun. His face fell into a puddle of mud, brown drops falling into the air, with a sticky plop. Jeremy quickly recovered, jumping back up; Otabek performing the same, holding both of his fists before him. The older teen slammed his right fist into his face; Jeremy's eyes were shut, blood emitting from his nose. He sent his fist under Otabek's chin, nose pointing to the sky. Jeremy sent another fist to his gut, the latter grunting in sheer pain as hair fell.

Fuck, if only Otabek had police batons. Little Jeremy here would be defeatedly easily. Otabek glared at Jeremy, though he smirked.

The teen-gunman raised a brow, wondering what the living hell was going through his mind. While, Yuri hurriedly picked up the gun and ran to the edge of the backyard, freeing the barrel, and pushing the bullets out.

"Not bad," Otabek smeared his arm over his nose. "Though you lack a tad of pragmatism…"

Jeremy looked confused, "The hell…?"

Otabek grabbed a dislodged branch, twirling before himself to both sides, spinning around just once and promptly smacked Jeremy with it. Jeremy's lips with pursed up, falling to his side. Yuri bore a bare-teeth smile on his face, having watched the 'MMA Fight' play before him.

"Otabek; quick!" Yuri called out to him, gaining his attention and tossing the gun towards him. The older teen caught in his hands, turning to him.

"What am I doing?"

"Just toss it, I already threw the bullets around," Yuri leaned towards him. He laughed to himself.

"You fucking TURD!" Jeremy bellowed right at Yuri – seeing red. "I always KNEW you were some little SLUT! _TRAITOR_!"

Yuri grimaced, spitting right at his face. Jeremy cried out, touching his face as Otabek dusted off his hands, having tossed the gun away while so.

"C'mon, let's go, Yuri!" The older teen beckoned for him; Yuri immediately and gladly did, clutching onto Otabek's shoulder, both running away. Some of the decayed were around the front door – one of them noticed the pair, seeming to after them but another stumbled into the back yard… where Jeremy was.

Just as Jeremy found one of the bullets, a shadow hovered to him. The teen turned around and froze. One of the decayed grabbed his shoulder and –

CRUNCH!

Teeth found itself embedded within his larynx – downplaying any of his screams.


	2. Tomorrow Never Knows

The forest was very similar to Kay Sage's _Tomorrow is Never_. An eerie, thick fog snaked around the trees, the occasion wind blew, sending leaves towards the distance, and was almost opaque—almost nothing could be seen. The only difference was, one living young man was traveling through it, him keeping his Smith and Wesson pointed at the distance.

Guang-Hong Ji didn't exactly know where he was -what city, state, or even county- but he knew he had to find some away from here. It had been like that since the beginning when everything fell to pieces.

Just when he breathed, he saw something on his right side, ruffled and pearled on one of the trees beside him. The boy had a brow up, holding his pistol with now only one hand as he walked up to it. He thumbed the ruffled-up surface, figuring it that was layered with pure, now dirtied up silk. In the middle were several faux pearls clustered together with two white ribbons underneath, a small white bell below each of them.

Who would leave these here? And in the middle of Armageddon? Guang-Hong set it back on the tree, taking a breath. He continued walking down the forest, eyes darting at both sides and gripping his backpack straps, ensuring himself that he was no danger. And when his head turned right to where his pistol was pointing at, that was when he knew where that flower decoration came from.

"Oh god…" Guang-Hong breathed, cupping his mouth.

Dark brown, red, and the occasional intestine lined the once, white and beautifully decorated gazebo. The large white bell that hung at the frame was coated in reddish muck, blowing very quietly and solemnly in the evening air. A body in a dark gray suit was splayed near the white runway carpet bore a puddle of guts under itself. What the worst of all, was the young woman with a bloodied white veil onto her possible husband's hand with a sad look on her face. _How the…?_

There was a wedding here – and none of the guests or even the newlyweds were still alive. A wave of pure pity and sadness rode over Guang-Hong's body as his stomach quaked. His knees buckled, interlocking as mere soft sobs peeped through his hands. Out of every event that was happening in the End, those things had to attack a wedding. A union between two people that loved each other with all their hearts.

Though as much as he wanted to mourn for the people that he didn't even know, it wasn't the time. He walked away from the gazebo, sniffing once and rubbing an eye. When was there a right time? As much as it was nasty to think, there had to be some sort of food and shelter around. Guang-Hong was done with sleeping on the side of the highway, where two sorts of enemies tried to pick at him. Behind the gazebo, seemed to be where the reception should have been, some of the tables still having their cloths over them. He walked carefully towards the newlyweds' table, eyeing a large green bottle that was on the edge. Guang-Hong plucked it up, eyeing it as if he didn't know what it was before. Champagne, most likely as he placed it in between his legs and tried to open it like how it was done in media. Soon enough, the foam was overflowing, the boy's face surprisingly puckering.

Guang-Hong licked his lips, wondering it tasted. He never had a spirit in his life after his grandmother told him about wine and other spirits. _They do nothing good for your body. _

One couldn't hurt now for all the most obvious reasons. The boy tipped it back and then—spewed it back out. The boy cringed, shaking his head back and forth as he dropped the bottle, rubbing his mouth.

"Guess grandmother was right; never trust any spirits even if they're for free…" he quietly muttered to himself, leaving that bottle behind.

He wondered if there was anything else. If there was a cake, there was no way Guang-Hong could down that. Other than gaining weight, it was most likely long gone by now. Beside him, there was a flat beige patch, carrying several makes and models of cars. Guang-Hong up to a black SUV and tapped it, figuring this would be beneficial. The boy nodded, taking a deep breath. He walked forward to see if there was anything and saw a few buildings on the horizon, all made with tan wood and the windows painted white. Most likely where the honeymoon was supposed to be at.

!

The hotel mostly picked clean, just a few bodies in the main lobby, but nothing too troublesome for the boy. After picking up a random key from the counter, he found himself entering one of the rooms that were on the first floor of the hotel.

Falling onto the bed, Guang-Hong sighed. After spending so many months out there, alone, he was glad to be in a bed like in the old days. And to be in a stable shelter such as this hotel.

And even though some odd figures were looming around outside of his window, Guang-Hong fell into a blissful slumber.

!

JAB.

"Oh!" the young man peeped out of pain, surprised at what had happened. He covered his eye hurriedly in panic mode, wondering what could have gotten him out of the blue. He looked and saw a man's face in his vision. Despite the black mask he was wearing on his face, he looked malevolent and angered, his eyes boring at Guang-Hong's own. Just when he peeped, a thick, gruff-textured hand covered his mouth.

"Don't make any fucking peeps unless if you want your head blown off."

_What the?_ The boy hyperventilated, his hands shaking everywhere as he struggled to get the hand off his face. Unfortunately, with a loud grunt, the man inverted his body and threw down to the carpet. The large man set his knee on the boy's crotch, to keep him down as maybe a precaution. Guang-Hong whimpered sacredly, eyes wide and going around; his backpack and pistol! The large man searched through his belongings and let out a fascinated snort.

"What are little boys like you doing with these?" he taunted, dangling a small bear charm in his hands. It was white and fluffy with a red belly.

"You turd!" Guang-Hong spat at the man's face, which he grunted out of disgust.

Big mistake…

_POW! _

Sobs were forged, the boy facing the right, a red cloud under his left eye.

"Another crack like that and your throat's gone," the man hissed, getting up from the floor.

Soon enough, Guang-Hong's hands were interlocked and tied behind his back, quietly grunting to himself as the rope was pulled hard. Why was this happening? Who was this man and why was he taking him? What had he ever done to him? All Guang-Hong wanted was a shelter for the next few nights and travel around the area now that he so much extra time on his hands.

"Found a good specimen; this one's full of youth and… ready to ejaculate." His captor told into a small device, his boot on Guang-Hong's back.

_Ejaculate?! As in what comes out of the male body to possibly impregnate a woman?! Who was he talking to?_ Guang-Hong wondered, even as he was draped over the man's shoulders and carried out of the room.

Sooner or later, Guang-Hong found his head bouncing on a fuzzy surface—a car trunk. His backpack was nearby, but his pistol…? It was already on his captor's belt, as he chuckled at Guang-Hong, spitefully, "Nighty-night, there's nothing you can say now…"

The trunk was closed, leaving Guang-Hong in a plane of shadow.

!

Guang-Hong didn't know how long he was in the trunk, but his hands were hurting him. Not only can rope cut off circulation, but he could also be bleeding under as well. Even though he wasn't gagged or blindfolded, the boy did not attempt to look up—fearful of his captor catching him and hurting him in any way he could. Darn it, now, Guang-Hong needed to determine what he was going to do now. Maybe when this SUV stopped, he could kick his way free, far before his captor could use his own pistol on him. He knew that he was so long gone from that hotel; from how the trees disappeared as they moved along. Maybe it was a good thing, he left that tarnished gazebo-wedding behind. Maybe all those people could rest in peace now. Where could he run to?

Even though the boy could shake his head, the SUV made a quick and abrupt pause. He quietly peeped, face touching the back of a seat.

It seemed that his captor had an amused look on his face, as there was something right in the distance. The man walked out, slamming the door behind himself leaving Guang-Hong alone. The boy immediately looked up, wondering where his captor was walking to. There was another vehicle, white and jeep-shaped ahead. Oh no. Was this man going to catch another specimen?

It was at that point, a third person manifested and quickly appeared startled, pulling out their own gun and pointing it at the man before them. Even though Guang-Hong couldn't hear what was being said in between both, he knew it was all angrily. How else would that person react to someone in a black mask and a gun?

Before the masked man could draw, the third person fired first (about four times), screams emitting throughout the area, as he fell. Blood pooled underneath his body, as his arm fell right beside him.

Guang-Hong stiffened, taken aback at what just happened. Of course, he's shot those roamers but…

Seung-Gil was standing still, chest expanding and tightening, still holding the gun in his hands. From the car, a man in a blue shirt manifested, and terrifyingly he demanded, "What did you _DOOO?!"_

_Other survivors? _Guang-Hong had a brow raised. He hoped they weren't as vile as his now dead captor.

"Just ebbed another idiot from this world," Seung-Gil simply told his companion, holding the gun out for him.

"But did you have to use up four bullets?!" Emil shook the gun at his head, fear singing in his eyes. "You'd bring every darn lurker here!"

From out of the car, a young woman appeared, seeming concerned for her companions. She raced over to her friend, "Emil, he's right; for all we know, this man could've done heinous things before the disaster."

Emil gripped his head, stating, "I know, it's just - you couldn't have used your hammer after one shot, Seung-Gil?"

Seung-Gil folded his arms, "It's too late for that now, there are other times," He crouched down and checked the man for his keys. Once he found them, he walked straight to the SUV, wondering what could possibly be in it. Emil sighed, following him to ensure that he didn't get into any more trouble.

Seung-Gil opened the now unlocked back – only to be surprised by who was in there. Sara gasped, seeing the young man was sitting in the back – on edge and bound. Guang-Hong whimpered, as Emil held his hand out.

"Whoa, whoa, buddy," he began, as Seung-Gil was just as quietly unnerved as Guang-Hong. "Are you okay?"

"Please, untie me…" the boy bid.

"Alrighty," Emil complied, pulling out a switchblade. Sara called out for her friend, but as he sawed the rope off Guang-Hong's wrists, he assured her everything would be fine. Emil and Sara helped him slide down, the boy grunting as he rubbed his poor wrists. Even though they didn't know much about him, better to help him as an enemy than to euthanize him as a friend.

"What happened to you, kid?" Emil asked him.

"I stopped in an abandoned hotel to rest, and that now-dead man captured me," Guang-Hong explained nervously, rubbing his arm.

Sara inquired him, "What's your name?"

"Guang-Hong Ji…" he answered – eyes darted to the left.

"I am so sorry you were taken like that, Guang-Hong." She told him. "Do you know any reason why he would take you?"

"Uhm," Guang-Hong whimpered, beginning, "He said something about me being ready to ejaculate and a good specimen…"

The trio looked to each other, Seung-Gil's brow raised as both Sara and Emil had frightened looks on their faces. He wasn't talking about they were thinking about, right? If so, then, they may want to forget about stopping for the night.

It was when Emil suggested, "Then, you could definitely use someone right now – other than your captor, by a long shot..."

"I appreciate it," Guang-Hong told them. "Are you guys traveling to somewhere?"

"Hoover dam!" Sara beamed. "It's something I and these guys heard as kids and going to see."

Guang-Hong managed to genuinely smile for once in his travels. "Wow. I've never been there before; you wouldn't mind…?"

"Of course we don't mind another person with us, just hop in," Emil told with a smile. "We have a spare seat in our car."

The boy nodded. "Just let me get my items back from this guy…" With that, the group carried on.

Time passed – and soon the group found themselves driving through some grassy plains happily conversing like in the movies. Their conversations were about their lives previous, Guang-Hong had been medic-studying as Emil was into forensic science.

At one point, they thought some music was nice. Sara placed in a disk and found themselves attempting to beatbox to band Black Eyed Peas', 'Boom Boom Pow'.

* * *

**'Tomorrow is Never' was made eight years before the artist's (Kay Sage's) suicide. D:**

**...On a sweeter note, the next chapter-'Man's Best Friend' ft. Makkachin and Viktor should come soon**.


	3. Man's Best Friend

Wet.

Dripping wet.

A single drop of rainwater fell from the roof, falling into a miniscule puddle of water.

A pair of black, beady eyes stared through the screen of the front door, a long dark brown bushy tail swaying in the air. There were no enemies of any kind outside, though, one could never be too careful.

A loud coughing sound erupted from the room that was right of the table, causing Makkachin to stiffen up.

A gruff, raspy male voice emanated, beckoning for the large dog. "Makkachin, Makkachin, please—eeruuugk!—come here, boy,"

Makkachin panted, barking into the direction of where his master called him; he stood on his hind legs and tipped the solid door before the screen shut before padding to his master's side.

Makkachin slipped his nose through the crack of the door, quietly letting himself in. The room itself was dark, save for a small window that was on the wall. The bed was partially unmade, the cover peeling under the young man that was resting upon it. A small channel of skin existed in between his black briefs and a blue blanket, arm sitting under his head.

Makkachin immediately set his paws on the bed, whimpering somberly as he tilted his head to his owner. Viktor's hair was heavily and horribly disheveled, his sclera had gone red, and sweat poured down on every edge of his face, the ones under his eyes appearing like tears of pure sadness. Viktor, without looking, picked up a dark purple bottle and turned his dog, "Daddy needs you to find more of this medicine for me,"

Viktor coughed into his armpit, as he let Makkachin sniff out the bottle. Scent now in his nose, Makkachin padded back, letting out a small bark. If he could, he'd lick his Dad's face right now.

"Did you—cruuugghhh—get i-it?" Viktor asked the poodle, gruffly, giving off a very small smile.

Makkachin bobbed his tongue out, his lips growing ear to ear. Viktor went scratched him behind them, which Makkachin clearly enjoyed, tilting his head lower.

"Go, boy, Daddy's counting on you," Viktor breathed to him, before covering his mouth again.

!

Makkachin traveled several ways away from the cabin he and Viktor stayed into the nearest town. They had been traveling for several weeks since the end, leaving their once home in Las Cruces, New Mexico to eventually pausing here in Colorado where Viktor contracted the flu. He walked through a cold mountain without any protection and found himself on the bed in the cabin they found.

Makkachin passed by a bar and an old dingy restaurant when he reached where he needed to be. A pharmacy—where his owner needed that medicine. The poodle carefully slid through the hole that was made in the glass and wagged his tail, tracking down where that medicine was. He made it halfway into the store when a black and blue backpack stopped him. Makkachin leaned away befuddled, but sniffed into it, and then panted out, knowing that it was empty. Makkachin chomped on it and hauled it to the medicine aisle of the store.

!

Outside, on the road's shoulder, there was a brown-haired young man standing behind a blue truck, holding a sniper gun against his chest. He turned to his older brother, asking, "Did you see that?"

"Yeah, looks like one o' 'em fancy pageant dogs. What of it?" inquired a man almost apathetically, placing bullets into his shotgun after a small battle with a roamer. A black mullet cascaded on his head as a dark brown trench coat hung around his calves.

"What of it?" Lewis raised a brow, repeating what his aloof older brother Simon told him. "That dog is a poodle, one of the most intelligent dog breeds in the whole world. If it's here, then its owner must still be around." Of course, why else would a certain dog go into a pharmacy on instinct?

Simon groaned like an annoyed child, shaking his at it. "So what—you just gonna go in and grab its attention?"

Lewis darted his eyes at him before mounting his rifle on his back. "You know I can't go in by myself, Simon—you and I both. Come on, already."

!

Makkachin panted, backpack lined with various cough syrup bottles and cough drops as he hauled it away from the aisle. These should be enough; Dad would have tried to find these on his own, but with his ailment… it was better he rested instead.

Makkachin would have stepped out, but then his nose caught something else in the air. Meat. Specifically strips of beef jerky and other tasty fiddles that the humans left behind. Dumb humans. Can't they be more pragmatic? Dad would leave no stone unturned as Makkachin padded his way down that aisle. And make sure his canine companion was well fed also.

Makkachin set his paws on where the beef jerky was being held, chomping on some and stowing it into the pack. When he could just go up and collect a second batch, Lewis was by holding a smile on his face as he quietly approached the dog. Simon was behind, shaking his head just unamused at what his little brother was doing.

The poodle sensed the unknown human's presence, turning to his direction and freezing.

"Hey buddy," Lewis smiled, beginning to crouch down solely to get the poodle's attention.

Quickly, Makkachin narrowed his eyes, growling at the strange human that was calling to him. What did this human want? He didn't go off with unknown humans without his master's permission. Makkachin barked once at Lewis, causing the young man to flinch as if acid fell on him.

"Oh damn," Lewis cursed to himself, his elongating eyes still on the dog. Makkachin barked once more, not wanting these humans around him.

"Yo pooch, my brother hates hurting animals—we just want to know if your owner's still alive." Simon stepped forward, his coat looming past his brother. Makkachin froze once more, staring at him, nose tingling rapidly. Simon knelt and then shuffled his fingers, which made Makkachin come and lick them. Meanwhile it all, Lewis quietly crawled away towards the pet area of the store. Simon smirked, tilting his head, knowing that he had made accomplishment.

"Of course," told Lewis, coming back with a bag full of dog treats, shuffling them around. "Lead us to your owner, please."

!

Viktor's left ear had gotten congested. He clutched the sheets tightly, teeth bared out as he shook his head around. Fuck. This was utterly painful and Viktor fucking hated it. He groaned, a free fist slamming onto the wooden wall as his feet crawled on the sheets nervously.

Lewis was the last being to enter, closing the door behind them as Simon had the backpack slung over his shoulder. Makkachin had already neared his master's room and barked when he entered.

Even though everything was a blur and deaf, Viktor turned, breathing and smiling when he saw his dog. "Makkachin…?" Though… where was the medicine, he needed…? None was on him! Viktor's face looked panicked, as Simon came into the room. The moment Simon saw him, he was immediately unnerved, as if seeing a strange creature dance before him.

"Why homie look like that one drag queen actor?" Simon pointed at Viktor.

Lewis was already right by him, swatting his hand at his arm. "Have sensitivity, man,"

"You—who are you, people?" Viktor was sat up on the bed, and quickly brandished a black hilted dagger from the nightstand. His teeth were out like a dangerous animal's, the tip pointing straight at them. Sick or not, he needed to be on guard.

Spooked, the former answered, holding one hand before himself, "My name is Lewis, and this is my brother Simon; we saw your dog and tailed him back here."

Viktor appeared befuddled, his dagger-tip never leaving its designated target, wheezing, "The hell are you people come from?"

"We come from a group that's west from here – we go out and collect survivors to rescue them," Simon edged closer to him, Viktor turning his dagger's attention towards him. Oddly, Simon was not afraid, as if he had been held at knifepoint many times before. "Yo, we got plenty of stuff that every person needs to survive out here." Simon scrutinized him, adding, "You need a lot of doctor-work, honestly."

Viktor's eyes tightened, not enjoying this man's very words, "How can I ensure that this isn't a trap? I've dealt with people who tried to capture and maim me."

Lewis was somewhat unnerved by what he had just heard; it was as if this guy had been threatened before the mess. Long before.

Regardless, Simon folded his arms at Viktor, "In 1918, there was a flu epidemic that occurred in Spain, which killed thousands of people; you wanna end up like them? Now that hospitals are obviously dead? Cough drops and syrups aren't gonna be enough," He peeled the backpack from his shoulders, showing him the various items that his dog managed to collect for him. Viktor had leaned forward, eyeing them with his own reddish eyes._ Makkachin did it…_

"The medic would be glad to see you," Lewis added. "It's their job after all."

"Are you lying? I utterly despise liars." Viktor commented. Makkachin was by his side now, bobbing his tongue as he stared at the two young men.

"Nuh-huh, man," Lewis shook his hands around at him, denying any claim that they were lying about their base. "Especially after what grandma said, right, Simon?" he peered at his older brother, nudging at him.

Even though he remembered doing that as a kid, Simon reluctantly agreed with his brother. "Yes; speaking of medical stuff, you clearly need some of this now," Simon pulled out a bottle and ripped the wrapper off. Viktor raised a brow.

While Simon poured up a cap of medicine for Viktor, Lewis suggested, "C'mon, I'll help get you ready; our truck has a back seat so you and your dog can get some sleep."

"I'd like to what state is located up north," Viktor inquired, taking the cap from Simon and then sipping it.

"Wyoming, near Yellowstone National Park," Lewis answered.

!

The journey up to Wyoming was relatively calm. They came across a few roamers, some lone ones or in clumps, but it was nothing they couldn't face. At an early point, Simon ran one over with the truck door, laughing that it smelled worse than his own underwear. Despite that statement, a small talk-snippet was made, Lewis asked, "How long have you and Makkachin been together?"

Viktor rubbed Makkachin in between the ears, snorting,"Since I was twelve—for over fifteen years now."

Simon let out a long whistle, turning the wheel every now and then, "God damn, son…"

"We did have a pet hamster once," Lewis began, leaning close to his older brother, wanting him to remember of what happened before. "then it 'accidentally' fell into a cat's mouth."

"Those things can only live for three years, on average, in my defense." Simon sent at his brother.

Viktor looked at Makkachin, before chuckling to himself and the latter panting on his lap.

!

The sky looked like a bowl of fruit. The morning had arrived, gleaming happily over a town, one that seemed to carry still living organisms in it and was surrounded by a large wall. Viktor took a good look at it, and… something in his stomach pooled. Makkachin whined, concerned for his owner's wellbeing.

"We're still a long way from our _old_ home, boy, I know." His owner soothed before coughing into some tissues that Lewis gave him.

The truck went through a gate that was opened by an unknown person, entering the town and paused at the nearest parking lot. Both Simon and Lewis helped Makkachin exit the truck, the dog wagging his tail as the two helped Viktor next. Viktor grunted, Lewis gently patting his back as he hacked into the tissues again, violently.

At the same time, two figures appeared before them. One had mouse brown hair as the other, shorter, had dirty blonde hair. "Simon, Lewis – who's this young man ya'll brought back?" The former asked them; while the latter took note of the dog standing before them in utter awe.

"Viktor," Viktor himself began; he may be sick, but he wasn't going to let anyone do his introductions for him. "Viktor Nikiforov," he managed to smile once, looking at the man that beckoned for his name.

He was over his mid-thirties—his hair was mouse brown and greasy. A large, dark blue, fur-lined coat covered every inch of his chest and his jeans were dusty. He had a warm smile on, even when he asked Viktor, "Are you okay, son? Anything the matter?"

"I'd like to see your doctor—Mister…"

"Theodore Terrence—Theodore if you wish," The man introduced himself. "And this is my son, Daniel."

He was kneeling before Makkachin, marveling and muttering as the latter scraped his paw on his hand. Makkachin tilted his head as the boy had to him, whimpering and watching the boy very curiously also.

"Daniel," his father beckoned, which made Daniel stand up straight and face Viktor.

"Pardon," the boy looked at and asked Viktor, "Your poodle is a fascinating breed. Originally, they were bred in Germany and were used as hunting dogs." All the while, Lewis smirked at Simon, making the latter shake his head and look away from him.

"Alright, alright, Daniel," his father patted his arm, "that's enough; Viktor here needs to be taken to Doctor Skinner."

Daniel folded his arms as Theodore walked up to Lewis and Simon, "You guys mind helping Benji in the back? Daniel and I will take it from here."

"Gladly," Lewis nodded; with that, the two brothers left.

Makkachin had his attention on the man, as the man had a hand on Viktor's shoulder. Right as the two men spoke, Makkachin growled right at Theodore. Viktor turned to his dog, asking, "Makka? What's the matter?"

Makkachin barked extremely loudly at Theodore, his teeth bared out more than he had at the brothers. Daniel cupped his mouth, knowing the very idea with dogs: they can sense whatever humans cannot.

"My god!" Theodore carped, just unnerved by him.

Makkachin barked, again, twice, his tail erected up like a scorpion's. Viktor apologized profusely to the man, before wheezing demandingly, "Sorry, he's usually more civil – Makkachin! Cease now!" snapping his fingers in the dog's face, which got him to comply.

After Viktor apologized to Theodore again and the latter stated it was fine, the two escorted Viktor to the medical station. It was makeshift, with only a few IV stands and cots, but it was efficient. The doctor was a man in his forties, some gray appearing around his head. Viktor was seated on a cot as the examined him. And like with the brothers, small talk was made in between them.

"Clawing my way back to my first home, Russia…" Viktor answered after the doctor looked at his throat.

That made Daniel, even more, intrigued, being a bookworm, he was.

"Oh?" Doctor Skinner had a brow raised, asking him, "You for real? How long have you been here?"

Viktor nodded. "About two years."

"What made you want to live here in the States?"

Viktor bit his lips. He shook his head, "It's a very long story…a rubbish one, I'll tell you." Makkachin placed his head on his lap. He was there when Viktor needed someone.

Doctor Skinner nodded in understanding, knowing better than to pester anyone with any more questions. He then told Viktor what pills he should take each day and where to find them. When it was done, both father and son escorted Viktor out of the area, Makkachin sniffing Daniel's hand as so.

As both Viktor and Theodore talked, the former told him, "I would like to say thank you, to you, sir, if your two men hadn't gotten to where I was, I would've been dead by now."

Theodore laughed almost like a Bond villain to himself. "No, no, son; thank you. If you didn't have a pooch like this here, we would've never found you two." He patted his arm.

Viktor felt a little simmer in his heart. Content. He can see that in Makkachin, seeing him interact nicely with Daniel.

Theodore spun to him, sweetly, as bells rang, signaling lunchtime, "Once you're better, we'll give you some work. You're working for the Black Stadium, now."

* * *

**Now who could this strange man be?**


End file.
